


call him princess until he smiles

by LittleBird20



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Boyfriends, Boys Kissing, Dom/sub, F/M, First Time, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Laughter During Sex, Love Confessions, M/M, Mario Kart, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Stan Is Somewhere In The Middle, Streddie, Sub Richie Tozier, Threesome - M/M/M, Underage Drinking, Video & Computer Games, dom eddie kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:07:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBird20/pseuds/LittleBird20
Summary: Eddie looks at Richie, who raises his eyebrows, and then shrugs at Stan. “We like you,” he says simply.“You...like me,” Stan repeats slowly. “Again, what the fuck?”“I — we — have liked you for a while,” Richie admits. Eddie nods.Stan looks back and forth between them before bursting into laughter. The spots of color on his cheeks that had faded during the course of the game are back in full force. “You guys are fucking with me, aren’t you?”***Richie and Eddie adopt Stan as their pillow princess. College AU.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Comments: 16
Kudos: 195





	call him princess until he smiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AliuIce0814](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliuIce0814/gifts).



> Listen, don’t come for me about their living arrangements, I have no idea what they are or where they are. Also, I tagged it as underage drinking but they could be 21 if you want. 
> 
> Get a husband who will beta for you, folks.

“C’mon, Eds, we’re gonna be late,” Richie whines from his perch upside down on his bed.

  
“All the blood is going to rush to your head,” Eddie remarks as he fussily adjusts his hair in the mirror. He’s already made Richie clean the mirror with Windex that he “just happened to have in his car” even though he was “only coming over to help Richie study and not clean.” Honestly, Richie should’ve known.

  
“No, it’s not, my dick is too big for that!” Richie cries, attempting his stage voice to make Eddie laugh. When Eddie merely grimaces at him in the mirror and continues messing with his hair, Richie sighs and swings his legs back down off the wall. Now his sneakers are resting lightly on his pillow and his head is at the opposite end of the bed. If he just waits...

  
“Richie!” Eddie shrieks at him, finally turning away from the mirror. Ah, yes, there it is. Never let it be said that Richie Tozier doesn’t have a thing for tiny brunettes yelling at him. “Why are your feet on your pillow? You have your shoes on. That’s disgusting! Do you know how many germs people get on the bottoms of their shoes? That’s where you sleep. All those germs are going to be on your face now, I hope you know that! And—,” Eddie stops short as Richie laughs, sitting up on the bed.

  
“Chill, Spaghetti. I’ll move my shoe germs to the floor where they belong. Now can we leave? We’re seriously going to be late.”

  
Eddie continues to glare daggers at him, but does move over to the desk to grab his keys. “Since when do you care about being late?” he asks as he shepherds Richie out the door, locking it behind them.

  
“I don’t,” Richie says, turning around to grin widely at Eddie. “But Stan will." He holds the grin, waiting for the flash of want that appears in Eddie's eyes whenever he hears Richie say Stan's name. Then Richie breaks the tension: "I just can’t wait to beat your ass in Mario Kart.”

  
Eddie splutters at Richie’s retreating form as he runs down the stairs to the front door of their building ahead of him. “You,” he calls after him over the railing, “you fucking asshole! I could beat you blindfolded! You couldn’t drive a straight line if your life depend on it! You—“  
Richie laughs all the way to the car.

  
...

  
“They’re late,” Stan says, peering out the Denbrough’s kitchen window. The sun’s setting, turning the driveway and the yard the same sort of gray, and Richie’s car is still missing.

  
“It’s only 7:15,” Bev says from her perch on the counter. She’s cradling a bottom-shelf bottle of red wine like it’s her child. Stan’s still deciding whether she’ll share with him if he asks.

  
“Fifteen minutes. They always do this--”

  
Down the block, tires screech. A moment later, Richie’s pulling up to the curb in the world’s most crooked parallel parking job. Eddie’s already grousing at him as they get out of the car. Stan quickly lets the kitchen curtain drop so they can’t tell he was watching for them.

  
“Hey, boys,” Bev coos as Eddie and Richie walk into the kitchen of Bill’s parents’ house. Any time Bill’s parents were out of town for the weekend, the Losers Club naturally gravitate to their booze, food, and video game-filled childhood hangout. “Lose track of time, did we?”

  
“Yeah,” Richie replies, “Eds was helping me study.” He tosses Stan a wink as he says this. Stan rolls his eyes.

  
Eddie glares at Richie, moving around Bev to get a glass of water from the sink. “Yes,” he says firmly. “That’s what we were doing.”

  
Both Richie and Bev burst out laughing. Eddie sets down his water glass and crosses his arms. “I’m waiting,” he says.

  
Richie and Bev share another look and then Bev giggles through her explanation. “It’s your hair,” she says. “It only looks this nice if you’ve been trying to fix it after...”

  
“After you’ve been sucking my dick!” Richie chimes in and the two of them break up in laughter again.

  
Stan sighs heavily. He doesn’t have a problem with Richie and Eddie being RichieandEddie, it’s just that when Richie runs his mouth like that, Stan’s mind conjures shockingly explicit pictures of his friends. “I’m leaving,” he says loudly enough that Richie and Bev can hear him over their giggles. He heads to the living room and drops onto the couch, where the interlibrary loan Mike requested for him (Birds in the Yard, Month by Month) is waiting. Eddie stomps after him. When Stan glances up at him, there’s a pink flush over Eddie’s cheekbones.

  
As Stan sinks into his book, he can hear Richie and Bev giggling to themselves until Ben arrives and steals her away. Stan can hear Richie wheedling with them to get them to play Mario Kart. Stan smiles behind his book at Richie’s groan when they both turn him down.

  
As it turns out, only Eddie sticks around to play, probably because Richie’s competitive enough that playing video games with him is a health hazard. Bill barely takes the controller from Richie before Mike comes into the room with that shy little smile he only gets around Bill. Bill passes the controller to Stan and bounds over to drag Mike out of the room. Stan gingerly sets the controller on the couch cushion and tries to focus on painted buntings and not the impending sex sounds. They’re all adults. He can handle his friends having sex. At least he can ignore it.

  
“Unh,” Richie moans, high-pitched, then bursts out laughing. Eddie socks him in the arm. Stan glares at a picture of the bright blue, yellow, orange, and red bunting. Music drifts down the stairs from Bill’s room, probably from the record player he has up there. Richie searches fruitlessly for the vent in the house that, when spoken into, could carry his voice up to Bill’s room. While he’s gone, Eddie piles every decorative throw pillow on the floor to make a comfortable spot for gaming. When Richie comes back and reaches for the couch cushions, Stan stretches out his legs as far as they go and pulls out his bird book. Richie wisely leaves the cushions alone after that.

  
“Good effort, babe,” Eddie says, patting Richie’s hair as he reclaimed his spot. “Now find your controller so I can finish demolishing you on this course.”

  
“You wish,” Richie says. “I will be victorious, my dear Edward. And you will have to pay.”

  
“Yeah, pay a visit to your grave. Where your headstone will read: ‘Richie Tozier - died from being owned so hard in Mario Kart by Eddie Kaspbrak.’”

  
“Well, your headstone is going to read: ‘Edward Kaspbrak - died from choking on Richie’s huge dick, but that’s okay because he loved it.’”

  
“Richie!” Eddie shrieks, pulling a pillow out of the pile to hit him with. Richie dissolves into laughter under the onslaught of feathery attacks. Stan can barely hear them yelling over the static in his ears.

  
As Eddie pulls back to whack Richie in the head once more, Stan finally speaks up from his spot on the couch. “You know, I really didn’t need to know that.”

  
Eddie freezes and Richie pops out of the pile of pillows, his hair tousled and his glasses askew. “Staniel!” he cries. “I forgot you were still here!”

  
Stan rolls his eyes as he marks his place in his book. “You’re an idiot,” he says dryly. “I’ve literally been in the same place the whole time.”

  
“Yeah, but...” Richie trails off, shrugging. “You’re quiet.”

  
“Mmm,” Stan says. “So quiet that you can talk about Eddie sucking your dick in front of me?”

  
“I’d do that anyway, my dear Stan the Man, I have no shame.”

  
Stan rolls his eyes again and gets up from the couch. He fumbles in his pocket with one sweaty hand, trying to find his car keys. “Anyway, I should get going. It’s late.”

  
“No,” Richie whines, stretching out the vowel. “Don’t leave! We’re having fun!”

  
“You’re having fun,” Stan points out. “I’m almost done with my book. And I want to get up early tomorrow to put out my hummingbird feeders.” He grabs his shoes from where he’d neatly removed them by the couch.

  
Richie scrambles after him and starts digging through the backpack he brought with him. “Okay, Stan, you can leave. But then you’d be missing...this!” He pulls out a bottle of vodka. Stan eyes it warily. It looks even worse than Bev’s wine - like it might mostly be nail polish remover.

  
Eddie, who followed them both into the entryway, stares at the bottle with wide eyes. “Where did you get that?” he asks.

  
Richie turns back to throw him a wink. “A good magician never reveals his tricks, darling,” he says, a poor British accent lilting his words.

  
It’s Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. “Seriously,” he says. “Where did you get it?”

  
Richie merely blows him a kiss and turns back to Stan. “So what do you say, Stanny, baby? Are you going to stay?”

  
Stan gives Richie and the bottle a considering look. He doesn’t think about Richie calling him ‘baby’. It’s not the first time, and he’s sure it won’t be the last. Richie’s just like that. It’s fine. “I’ll stay,” Stan says. He looks directly at Richie and hopes he can hear the challenge in his voice. “If you can make me a decent drink, Trashmouth.”

  
“Oho!” Richie cries. “It’s on.”

  
The three of them retreat to the kitchen to, as Richie put it, “watch the magic happen.”

  
The aforementioned magic ends up being Richie mixing whatever he can find in the refrigerator with different amounts of vodka to try and impress Stan. Each time Stan takes a sip of the drink, makes a face, and threatens to leave. But he keeps drinking, even when his gag reflex protests against the sting of vodka and the acidity of ketchup. Eddie takes his cup of vodka and Sprite (“I’m not going to mix it with pickle juice, Richie, what the fuck?”) and sits at the table.

  
Stan and Richie are standing on opposite sides of the island, staring at each other. Stan breaks their gaze to look down at his watch. His eyesight’s still clear, but his eyes nearly feel crossed. “Okay,” he says. “It’s after midnight. This is your last chance. If it’s disgusting, I’m leaving.”

  
Richie runs his hands through his hair, making it look even wilder than usual. He’s been sampling his own concoctions along with Stan, though his sips have been a lot more generous, and he’s clearly edging out of tipsy territory into outright drunk. “Okay, okay, okay,” Richie says, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. “One more. I promise this will be The One.” The way he intones his voice makes it clear that those words are meant to be capitalized. He surveys the various bottles in front of him and then turns back to the refrigerator once more. “Aha,” Richie cries, seeing something lurking on the bottom shelf. He pulls it out and hides it behind his back. “Close your eyes, Staniel.”

  
“I’m not closing my eyes, you’ll poison me,” Stan remarks mildly. While he’s been merely sipping at Richie’s drinks all night, he can feel the alcohol in his system. His cheeks are burning, and he feels focused on Richie in a way that he usually only feels when talking about his birds.

  
Eddie chuckles from his spot at the table, and Richie points to him with the hand not hiding the mysterious ingredient. “You stay out of this, Eddiekins.” The threat is ruined by the way he slurs Eddie’s nickname.Richie turns back to Stan. “Please,” he begs, fluttering his eyelashes. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”

  
“Fine,” Stan agrees. He can tell from the way Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up that he gave in easier than Eddie thought he would. “But make it fast.”

  
Richie cheers and quickly gets to work. Before too long he’s pouring a slightly pink-looking liquid into a glass from the martini shaker. “Open your eyes and prepare to be amazed, Stanny, my boy,” Richie says.

  
Stan opens his eyes and peers suspiciously at his cup. He looks up at Richie, who gives him an encouraging smile, and then back down at the cup. He has to admit that this looks much better than any previous attempt. Eddie gets up from the table and comes up next to Stan to get a closer look.

  
“Try it, try it, try it,” Richie starts chanting, doing a weird hip wiggle.

  
“Okay!” Stan cries. “Fine, jeez, I’ll try it.” He picks up the cup, sniffs it, makes a face at the vodka sting, and then takes a swallow. Vodka is disgusting by itself. Richie was screwed from the start. Except — It’s sweet, almost enough that Stan can’t taste the vodka anymore. Maraschino cherry? Pink lemonade? Something cloying.

  
Stan lowers his cup and smiles at Richie over the rim. “Not bad, Tozier,” he says. “Not bad at all.”

  
Richie cheers. “Alright!” he says. “Excellent. Now c’mon, I’m going to beat both of you at Mario Kart.”

  
Stan throws back the rest of his drink and sets the cup down on the counter, a little harder than he means to. But he’s grinning widely. “You’re on,” he says.  
Eddie groans but follows them back into the living room. Stan, to Richie’s surprise, does not suck at Mario Kart. Eddie takes Stan’s spot on the couch as Richie and Stan huddle in the mess of pillows, eyes focused on the screen. Eddie has finished his drink by this point and is floating pleasantly in the realm of “drunk-but-not-too-drunk.”

  
“What the fuck, Uris!” Richie cries, throwing down his controller in disgust as Stan beats him for the third time in a row, finishing the course. “How’d you get this good? What are your secrets?”

  
Stan smiles over at him, then leans over a stack of pillows so he’s right in Richie’s space. “Your mom taught me last night,” he says.

  
Richie blinks owlishly are time for a moment before breaking up into peals of laughter so loud that Bill appears at the top of the stairs. He happens to be shirtless, so Richie wolf whistles him the entire time he’s trying to tell them to keep it down. Eventually Bill gets fed up, throws up his hands, and goes back to his room. Stan can hear Mike asking, “what the fuck,” before the door slams closed. It sends them all into fresh hysterics.

  
“Okay,” Richie says, turning to Stan once they’ve all calmed down. “Last course. Winner takes all.”

  
“Bet,” Stan says, deadpan. Eddie shrieks with laughter again, hiding his face in the couch cushions.

  
Stan has won the first race and is well on his way to winning the second - they’re in lap 2 out of 3 - when inspiration seems to strike Richie.

  
“Eddie!” he whisper-yells. “Eddie!”

  
“Hmmm?” Eddie stirs from the light doze he’d fallen into on the couch. “What d’you want, Chee?”

  
“You have to distract him,” Richie continues in his terrible stage whisper. “You have to distract Stan so I can win.”

  
Stan snorts, furiously mashing buttons on his controller. “You think a distraction could help you now, Tozier? You’re hopeless.”

  
Richie takes a momentary break from the screen to shoot Eddie a pleading look. Eddie blinks the sleep from his eyes and slides off the couch to sit directly behind Stan.

  
Stan's expecting a wet willy or something. He's not expecting Eddie to place both hands on his shoulders. On screen, Stan’s car jerks slightly to the right at the same time his shoulders twitch under Eddie’s hands. It’s barely noticeable, Stan corrects it right away. But still.

  
“Wh-what are you doing?” Stan asks, trying to shrug Eddie’s hands off without making another mistake.

  
From beside them, Richie laughs, moving his whole body with the controller in a fruitless attempt to catch up with Stan. “I’m s-sorry, I didn’t realize you switched places with Bill. Are you the one upstairs fucking Mike right now?”

  
“Beep-beep, Richie,” Stan snaps, hands tightening on his controller. “He just surprised me, that’s all. I’m still gonna kick your ass.”

  
“We’ll see about that,” Richie says. On screen, their cars turn into the last lap.  
Eddie keeps his hands on Stan’s shoulders as he slowly leans in towards him. Stan tenses, but doesn’t make any more mistakes on screen.

  
Behind Stan, Eddie makes a wet sound. Is he licking his lips? Stan wonders just before Eddie closes the distance between them and places a kiss right on the hinge of Stan’s jaw, just under his ear. Eddie keeps his lips there for a moment - his mouth is warm and wet and he smells faintly of aftershave - before he pulls back, squeezing Stan’s shoulders again. On screen, Stan’s car careens spectacularly into the wall and computer bots race past the spot before Stan can right himself.

  
Richie cheers from his spot next to them. “Fuck yeah, Eds, that’s what I’m talking about!”

  
Eddie giggles, a sound he only makes when he's been drinking. They're all tipsy, Stan reminds his pounding heart. This probably isn't happening. He's imagining it somehow.

  
Eddie leans in again, kissing the same spot on Stan's jaw, but this time he goes further, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses all the way to the collar of Stan's shirt. Stan freezes and inhales sharply. On screen, his car stalls to a stop in the middle of the course, allowing all the other cars - Richie’s included - to go zipping past.

  
Richie cheers again as the stats for the race flash on screen. He puts down his controller and looks over at the other two, raising his eyebrows. “Nice distraction, Eds,” he winks. “Now who’s the best, Staniel?”

  
Stan groans and drops his controller to rub his eyes. “I wasn’t distracted,” he mutters. His hands tremble when he touches his face. “I just wasn’t expecting him to do - that.”

  
Richie and Eddie share a grin before Richie reaches over to pat Stan on the knee. “Happens to the best of us,” he says sagely.

  
Stan flips him the bird and picks his controller back up. “Last race, Trashmouth. Let’s see what you’re made of.”

  
“You’re on,” Richie says, pressing play.

  
Eddie keeps his hands on Stan’s shoulders for the first lap, lulling him into a false sense of security. As soon as the second lap starts, he leans in again and starts mouthing at Stan’s neck, taking note of which spots cause that sharp inhale. Stan does a better job this time, though. His car mostly stays on the path, and he doesn’t slow down even when Eddie sinks his teeth into Stan’s earlobe and tugs gently. He does, however, give a full body shudder. He can't help it.

  
It’s the third lap, and Richie is swearing up a storm next to them. Stan shifts his shoulders under Eddie’s grasp but stays focused.

  
“Eddie,” Richie whines as his car hits a shell and spins out. “You’re supposed to be a distraction.”

  
“Shut up,” Eddie says mildly. But he does slowly start to slide his hands from Stan’s shoulders down his chest. He has to move closer to Stan to accomplish this and ends up with his front pressed flush against Stan’s back. He’s very warm, Stan notices wildly. Eddie slides his hands lower, down Stan’s abdomen until they're right above his belt. Eddie’s mouth is now resting next to Stan's other ear.

  
Stan is tense, but his concentration doesn’t waver. The lap is almost finished. He can do this. He can win Mario Kart and whatever game Eddie is playing.

Eddie wiggles his fingers under the waistband of Stan’s jeans at the same time he leans in and sucks a hickey into the side of his neck. SThe sharp suction catches Stan by surprise. He swears and drops the controller. His car veers completely off the course. Richie goes whizzing past the spot where Stan was with a yell of triumph.

  
Eddie pulls back just enough to rest his chin on Stan’s shoulder. “Congrats,” he says, voice smug.

  
Stan uses this opportunity to shrug out of Eddie’s grasp and turn to face him. “What the fuck was that?” he asks, his breath hitching in the middle. He looks back and forth between Eddie and Richie as he waits for an explanation.

  
Eddie looks at Richie, who raises his eyebrows, and then shrugs at Stan. “We like you,” he says simply.

  
“You...like me,” Stan repeats slowly. His body's buzzing. “Again, what the fuck?”

  
“I — we — have liked you for a while,” Richie admits. Eddie nods.

  
Stan looks back and forth between them before bursting into laughter. The heat in his cheeks that had faded during the course of the game is back in full force. “You guys are fucking with me, aren’t you?”

  
Eddie reaches over and puts a hand on Stan’s knee, squeezing it. “No,” he murmurs, looking up at Stan through his lashes. “We aren’t.”

  
Stan swallows and notices the way Eddie’s eyes track the movement of his throat. His flush deepens.

  
Richie fiddles with his glasses before he reaches over to squeeze Stan’s other knee. “We definitely aren’t,” he agrees, his voice surprisingly soft.

  
Stan looks down at the hands on his knees and then back up. His gaze flicks back and forth between Eddie and Richie, unsure. He swallows again.

  
Eddie moves his hands back to their accustomed place on Stan’s shoulders and leans foward slowly, giving Stan time to object if that’s what he wants. When Stan says nothing, Eddie finally gets close enough to press their lips together. It’s not much of a kiss, barely a peck, but when Eddie pulls back, Stan is breathless. “Okay?” Eddie asks.

  
Stan nods. “Okay,” he whispers. He looks over at Richie, who grins and scoots closer.

  
“Okay,” Richie declares. “Let’s do this.” Eddie rolls his eyes and stands up, offering his hand to help Stan to his feet.

  
The three of them retreat down the hall to the last empty room on this floor. Stan can feel his heart about to beat out of his chest with nerves. He’s sure Eddie and Richie can hear it, too. But when they reach the bedroom and both give him matching smiles to pull him onto the bed, he kind of forgets all his misgivings.

  
Eddie, it turns out, is a great kisser. He tips Stan back so gently, he doesn’t even notice it until he’s pushed back against the pillows and Eddie is hovering over him.

  
Eddie smiles down at him, bringing their lips together again. Stan opens his mouth, deepening the kiss. Richie makes an appreciative noise from somewhere to his left and Stan opens his eyes, startled into breaking the kiss. Richie reaches over and brushes a stray curl out of Stan’s eyes. “Forgot I was here, didn’t you? I’m so hurt, Staniel,” he mocks.

  
Stan rolls his eyes. “It’s just because you were actually quiet for once in your life, Richard,” he retorts.

  
Richie collapses back on the bed, a hand over his heart. “You wound me,” he says, affecting some sort of breathy voice.

  
“Beep-beep, Richie,” Eddie scolds. “Get up. We’re supposed to be showing Stan a good time. Not being idiots.”

  
“Et tu, Brute?” Richie says, but stands up anyway and goes to undo his belt, slipping it out of its loops so he can easily slide his jeans down over his hips. His boxers have pineapples all over them. Stan bursts into laughter, and if it has a slightly hysterical quality, both Richie and Eddie are polite enough not to point it out. Eddie’s a little busy anyway.

  
“You asshole!” he shrieks, balling up the shirt he pulled over his head to throw at Richie. “I can’t believe you wore those. I told you to get rid of them!”

  
Richie easily dodges the shirt and climbs up onto the bed next to Stan. “Yeah, and then I thought, 'these are my favorite and what Eddie doesn’t know can’t hurt him.’”

  
“Well, I know now, don’t I, jackass?”

  
“Yeah,” Richie says. “I forgot.”

  
Before Eddie can yell at him more, Richie pulls Stan close and kisses him. Kissing Richie is much different than kissing Eddie. For one thing, Richie is so much bigger. He’s taller than either of them, and his huge hands seem to cover all of Stan’s scalp as he digs his fingers into Stan's curls and tugs gently. Stan moans into his mouth and shivers. He’s starting to get hard, and every touch seems electrified.

  
The bed dips as Eddie returns to his spot next to Stan. He’s only in his underwear now, and Stan gulps as his eyes rake over Eddie’s body. Since when has scrawny Eddie Kaspbrak had abs?

  
Richie senses his distraction and places one huge hand on Stan’s jaw, turning Stan’s face towards his. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ve got you.”

  
Stan hides the embarrassing noise he makes at the pet name by pulling Richie back in for another kiss. He feels Eddie’s hand land on his still-clothed thigh. He forces himself not to jump.

  
Richie releases Stan and pulls back to grin over at Eddie. “Someone in this equation is much too overdressed,” he remarks, glancing down at Stan’s jeans.

  
Eddie hums in agreement, reaching forward for Stan’s zipper. “May I?” he asks, looking up at Stan through his lashes again. Stan doesn’t understand how he can have such long lashes for a boy. But he nods, and Eddie’s fingers slowly unzip his jeans and ease them down his hips. Richie is there again, gently pushing on Stan’s shoulders until he’s lying flat on his back on the bed and Eddie can easily pull his jeans down and off. Stan shivers. He only realizes his eyes are closed when Richie’s hand on his jaw forces them open.

  
Richie grins at him and then leans down to whisper in Stan’s ear. “Just stay right here and enjoy the show, baby.”

  
Stan whines in his throat at the nickname and at the fact that Richie is pulling away from him to settle at the foot of the bed with Eddie.

  
Not that he’s thought about it, but if anyone had asked Stan, he would’ve told them that Richie was the dominant one in that relationship. He’s just so big, and he’s always striving to be the center of attention, wanting all eyes on him. He’s so overwhelming in every other social aspect, it would only make sense that it would carry over into this as well. But the way he easily bends down so Eddie can slot their mouths together, the way he lets Eddie’s hands gently tug at his hair to deepen the kiss, the way he sighs out Eddie’s name oh-so-gently as Eddie sucks a hickey into the hollow of his collarbones suggests that Stan’s original assumptions are far off the mark.

  
Stan whines again. Richie pulls back and grins at him. “Aw, is someone feeling left out?” he coos. Eddie smiles, but it’s predatory. “Don’t worry, princess. You’ll get yours.”

  
Stan feels a flush come over his whole body. He opens his mouth to protest the nickname, but immediately shuts it when he sees Eddie eyeing the very obvious tent in his boxers.

  
Now Richie is shimmying out of his ridiculous fruit-clad underwear and tossing them over the side of the bed. At first Stan tries not to stare. But then again, isn’t that why he was invited here?  
He had assumed Richie was...well-endowed. He had made enough jokes about it over the years. But assuming and seeing it are two different things, and now Stan has the pleasure of seeing it with his very own eyes. Even better: seeing Eddie reach towards Richie's dick with the intent to jerk Richie off.

  
“Please,” Stan blurts out before he can overthink it. Both Eddie and Richie freeze to look over towards him. Stan can feel his flush deepening, but he repeats himself. “Please,” he says again, his tone just this side of desperate.

  
Richie and Eddie share a look and then both crawl back up the bed to bracket Stan. Richie reaches out with his long arms and pulls Stan to his chest. “What is it, baby? What do you want?” Richie whispers in his ear, peppering little kisses against the side of Stan’s neck as he talks.

  
Stan melts back into him, groaning. “I want to touch you,” he manages to get out. “Please,” he adds again.

  
Richie hums in his ear, and Stan shivers. “I think that can be arranged,” he says. “Eddie?”

  
Eddie reaches over and curls his fingers in the waistband of Stan’s boxers just like he did earlier that evening. To Stan, that feels like a lifetime ago. He allows Eddie to remove his underwear and add it to the growing collection of clothes on the floor.

  
Now all three of them are naked, and the tone shifts from playful to serious. Richie keeps Stan tight against his chest as Eddie reaches out to curl a hand around Stan’s dick.

  
Stan tries very hard not to whimper or thrust up into Eddie’s hand as soon as he makes contact. That would just be embarrassing. As it is, he lets out a strangled groan and thunks his head back against Richie’s collarbone.

  
Richie chuckles, tightening his hold around Stan’s chest. “Does it feel good, baby?” he whispers. Stan nods as Eddie’s hand does something clever in the way that it twists around him.

  
“So good,” Stan gasps out as Eddie repeats the motion, clearly pleased with the reaction he’s getting out of him.

  
“You’re so pretty,” Eddie tells him as he works his dick. Stan feels his cheeks heat up. “Isn’t he pretty, Rich?”

  
“Pretty as a peach,” Richie drawls from behind him, bringing out the southern accent that always makes him sound like he has a cold.

  
Stan laughs, and Eddie glares at Richie. “Shut up if you’re going to do that voice,” he says. “You sound ridiculous.”

  
“Yes, boss,” Richie sasses, but Stan can sense he actually means it. He leans down and gives Stan a matching hickey on the other side of his neck. Stan moans and just barely stops himself from thrusting up into Eddie’s hand.

  
Eddie smiles that shark’s smile again and looks over Stan’s head to make eye contact with Richie. “Get the lube,” he instructs. Richie does so without a word. Stan can hear the click of the lid opening and Richie pouring some onto his fingers.

  
Then Eddie’s other hand is on his jaw, focusing his attention. “Richie’s going to open you up, okay, baby,” Eddie tells him. Stan nods frantically. As much as he wants to touch Richie (and Eddie) he can’t think of a better way for Richie to get his hands on him. Almost as if he can read his mind, Eddie adds on, “But then you can jerk him off nice and slow to make sure he’s ready for you, alright?”

  
Both Stan and Richie groan at that, and Eddie grins, satisfied, even though no one has touched him yet. Stan is about to point this out, but then one of Richie’s long fingers is pressing against him and his train of thought immediately derails.

  
Stan’s never done this before, but he can already tell that he appreciates having Eddie here in front of him to distract him from the burning stretch of Richie pushing a finger into him. He still hisses at the pain, but Eddie presses a bruising kiss to his lips and keeps up the same steady pace on his dick, and it’s better.

  
Soon enough, Stan is whining into every one of Eddie’s kisses as Richie presses three fingers into him. Eddie pulls back and studies both Stan and Richie with a critical eye. Stan knows he must look a desperate mess. His face is flushed, and his curls are sticking up in all directions from the way Eddie’s been tugging at them. From what he can feel from behind him, Richie isn’t faring much better. He’s panting next to Stan’s ear, and Stan can feel him, hard and leaking, next to his thigh.

  
Eddie directs his gaze down to Stan and softens it somewhat. The hand in his curls gently tugs until Stan is looking directly up into Eddie’s face. “You ready, baby?” he asks.

  
“Please,” Stan says, grinding back onto Richie’s fingers to prove himself.

  
“Richie?” Eddie asks, keeping his eyes locked with Stan’s.

  
“Yes,” Richie breathes next to Stan’s ear. “Let me take care of you.”

  
Stan nods and reaches down to slowly wrap a hand around Richie’s dick and move it up and down.

  
Richie groans as he slides his fingers out of Stan and reaches to grab the lube again. This time he pours some into Stan’s hand, and Stan wastes no time spreading it over Richie, enjoying the way he makes him gasp and moan.

  
“That’s enough,” Eddie says after a few minutes. Stan reluctantly pulls his hand back and wipes the extra lube on the sheets. “Now what do you say, baby?” Eddie asks Stan.

  
“Please,” Stan whispers, reaching up with his clean hand to tangle his fingers in Richie’s hair and pull him down for a searing kiss. “Please fuck me,” he says when they break apart.

  
“Of course,” Richie murmurs. He maneuvers himself into position behind Stan and slowly starts to press in. Stan groans long and loud, reaching forward to pull Eddie into another distracting kiss.

  
Eddie grants him one before speaking again. “Rich,” he says. Richie groans in response, all his attention focused on sinking into Stan one exquisite inch at time. “Rich,” Eddie says again, his tone sharper this time. Stan blinks his eyes open to look up at the expression on Eddie’s face: it’s stern. Stan rocks his hips back, encouraging Richie. He doesn’t know exactly what Eddie wants, but the authority in his voice and stance cause desire to swoop low in his belly.

  
Richie finally slides all the way in, his front pressed flush against Stan’s back the same way Eddie had when this all started. The two of them groan in unison.

  
“Rich,” Eddie says for a third time, a clear warning in his tone this time. Stan shivers at it and then makes a noise at the way it causes Richie to shift inside him.

  
Richie finally answers, panting out a “yes?” as he starts to incrementally move his hips.

  
Eddie reaches forward and stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “Tell Stan the rules, baby,” he says.

  
Stan tips his head back enough to look at Richie and see the blush starting to creep into his cheeks. He has no idea what the rules are, but the way Richie is reacting makes him eager to find out.

  
Richie whines, fingers digging into Stan’s arm. “Eddie...”

  
“Do you want me to tell him?”

  
Richie is silent. Eddie lets go of him in favor of tipping Stan’s chin up to look him in the eyes. Richie immediately starts moving again, rocking into Stan in smooth, practiced motions, building up a rhythm.

  
“Stan,” Eddie says, voice low and dangerous. “Baby. You need to tell Richie when he can come.”

  
Stan’s mouth drops open on a moan. Surely Eddie can't be serious? But when he starts to ask the question on the tip of his tongue, Eddie quiets him with a deep kiss. When he pulls back, Stan is dizzy. “Yes, I’m serious,” he says, reading Stan’s mind again. “That’s what Richie wants. What he needs. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” He directs this last part at Richie, who’s still focused on fucking into Stan in just the right way.

  
Stan can feel Richie nod against his neck.  
“What was that?” Eddie asks.

  
“Eddie...” Richie whines again, embarrassment clear in his tone.

  
“What?” Eddie says. “You mean you don’t want this sweet boy to tell you when you can come?” The hand in Stan’s hair is now used to tug his head back, baring his throat and forcing him to look upside down at Richie behind him.

  
Richie blushes to the roots of his hair. “Yeah...,” he says, voice small.

  
Stan groans at the pleasure-pain shooting through his scalp. “You don’t have to do that, Eddie,” he says, trying to alleviate some of Richie’s embarrassment.

  
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Eddie says, releasing his hair so Stan’s head falls forward and he’s now looking at Eddie. “Do you not like the idea of telling Richie when to come?”  
Stan says nothing, but the way his dick twitches in Eddie’s hand speaks volumes. Eddie smirks as he squeezes his hand around Stan again. “That’s what I thought.”

  
Richie has been fucking into Stan throughout this whole exchange. But when Eddie stops talking, he focuses just a little more and shifts his hips slightly to change the angle and all of a sudden Stan is seeing stars. He cries out, a little louder than he meant to, and clenches around Richie.

  
Eddie chuckles in front of him and starts moving his hand over Stan’s dick in time with Richie’s thrusts. Stan only moans louder.

  
“Shhh, baby,” Richie pants into his ear. “Someone’s going to hear you.” The retort Stan wants to give sounds too breathless as Richie picks up his pace, but he tries anyway.

  
“Look who’s talking,” he pants out.  
Richie only grins against his neck and moves his hand up to brush his fingers over Stan’s nipples. Stan groans again, still a little too loud for the guest room of Bill’s parents' house.

  
Eddie leans forward. “Maybe this will keep you quiet,” he murmurs, sealing his lips against Stan’s.

  
“Fuck, yeah, my boyfriends are hot,” Richie mutters. Eddie laughs into his kiss with Stan, but doesn’t break away. Stan wants to ask "boyfriend's?", surprised but pleased with the sudden plural, but he feels pressure building in his lower abdomen and whines against Eddie’s mouth. Eddie pulls away and speeds up his hand on Stan’s dick.

  
“You close, baby?” he asks. Stan nods, searching Eddie’s face. As if he can sense what Stan is looking for, Eddie tangles their free hands together and pulls Stan’s hand up to his mouth to press another gentle kiss to his palm. “Whenever you’re ready,” he says, giving Stan that look from beneath his lashes again.

  
That’s what does it.

  
Stan cries out as he comes, despite Richie’s admonishment to keep quiet.  
Eddie works him through it as Richie keeps up the shallow thrusts that had driven Stan wild in the first place. When Stan’s moans turn to whimpers, oversensitive, Eddie releases him and wipes his sticky hand on the sheets. He reaches up with the other hand to card his fingers gently though Stan’s wild curls. He leans into the touch.

  
“Stan,” Richie moans quietly behind him and Stan can feel the way his leg shakes in an effort to hold himself back.

  
“Yeah, Chee,” Stan sighs out, the permission falling easily from his lips. “Go ahead.”

  
At first Stan hadn’t believed Eddie when he’d said that Richie needed permission to come, unable to imagine Richie restraining himself from doing anything he wanted. But here's the (admittedly hot) evidence, and it’s enough to send fire through Stan’s veins again. He wants to tell Richie “no” over and over again just to see the relief when he finally says “yes.” But those are thoughts for another time. Surely there'll be another time. Right now, Richie is thrusting into him deep and hard, his hips slamming into Stan just right. It’s physically impossible for him to come again, but the pressure is its own kind of pleasure.

  
He can tell Richie’s getting close as he speeds up, and Stan reaches forward to pull Eddie into a kiss, pouring all his overwhelming feelings into it. Eddie deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue into Stan’s mouth at the same pace that Richie is driving into him. Stan moans and clenches down around Richie, and that seems to do it.

  
Richie thrusts into him once more and stays there, his shout muffled against Stan’s shoulder as he bites down, ensuring a truly spectacular hickey. Stan shudders at the feeling of Richie spilling into him and pulls back from his kiss with Eddie to pant harshly.

  
Richie slowly comes down, adjusting his position to press an apologetic kiss to Stan’s shoulder. He then pulls out, shushing Stan as he whines at the loss.  
Richie’s instantly pulling Stan back into his arms, holding tight. “Was that good, baby?” he whispers in Stan’s ear.  
  
Stan nods. “Yes,” he says, already feeling himself start to drift off. All his nerves are awash in sensation, and he’s floating in a very pleasant state right now. It feels so good to be tucked up into Richie’s arms with Eddie on the other side, still running his fingers through Stan’s hair.

  
Eddie...Stan’s eyes pop open and he extracts on arm from Richie’s grasp to reach over to Eddie.

  
But Eddie catches his wrist and presses a kiss to his palm. “No, baby, don’t worry about it,” he says gently.

  
“But,” Stan starts to protest.

  
“Shhh,” Eddie says. Then, “Richie?”

  
“Yessir!” Richie says. Stan can feel him reach over with one long arm to wrap a hand around Eddie and jerk him off in earnest. Stan sighs and settles back into the pillows, enjoying being sandwiched between these two as he listens to the noises Eddie makes as he gets closer.

  
Soon, Eddie is coming with a quiet cry, and Richie is settling back with both arms around Stan. Eddie reaches down to the foot of the bed and pulls a blanket over the three of them.

  
“Are you sure you guys weren’t fucking with me?” Stan asks the quiet of the room.

  
Eddie groans and the hand that had returned to gently play with his hair (Eddie can't get enough, it seems) tugs harshly. “Yes, you idiot. We are serious. I don’t know where you were for all of that, but I thought the sex would prove it. Jeez.”

  
Richie chuckles and Stan feels it more than hears. “Hey, he’s usually calling me the idiot after we do this, so that’s a nice change,” he informs Stan.

  
Stan laughs, bright and easy, and finally closes his eyes to let sleep take him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hopefully you liked that. I have an epilogue for the morning after and at least one other fic like this. LMK if y’all want more in the comments. 
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr as littlewitchinscarlet


End file.
